


Till You're Locked in My Embrace

by CrimesOfADeadpool



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: ALL THE PAIRINGS - Freeform, AU, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet AU, Cherik - Freeform, Everyone's a ballerina, Everyone's shipped, F/F, M/M, Multi, contemporary ballet, long fic, one of the ones where Raven isn't Charles' sister, yay!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:16:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimesOfADeadpool/pseuds/CrimesOfADeadpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Charles joins the Hellfire Ballet Group to replace one of their lead dancers, he gets paired with the irresistible Erik Lehnsherr.<br/>But Erik is rude and critical, and nothing Charles does seems to please him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Has this been done? (I mean, Erik in that turtleneck, there must be a few ballet!aus around right?)  
> Anyway, yes, ballet! Erik does ballet, Charles does ballet, everyone does ballet! I’m also using one of my OC’s for the first time, so let’s see how that pans out. 
> 
> The title is from the lovely "The Best is Yet to Come" by Frank Sinatra.

They were all frowning at Nate, who blinked back calmly.  
“What do you mean, ‘you’re leaving’?” Raven demanded.  
Nate adjusted his glasses. “Exactly what it says on the box. I’ve already explained-”  
“Not good enough!” Raven replied.  
Nate rolled his eyes and looked at Erik. “Sorry about this.”  
Erik frowned to himself. “It’s fine.” In his mind he was already reorganising their schedule. “We could go with one solo lead,” he offered to the group.  
They had a concert in six months. They’d only just gotten the details cemented.  
Sean scoffed. “Yeah, right. We’re not letting you get all the glory.”  
Emma furrowed her brow and shook her head. “We’ve already decided on the dances. Redoing our concert for a solo show would take at least a week. We might even have to rechoose our theme, which would take far too much organising.” She shook her head again. “The dual leads must stay.”  
Erik gave her an appraising look. “Then what do you suggest?”  
“Find another lead,” she replied, unfazed.  
“That could work,” Hank threw in helpfully.  
“And how many unemployed ballet dancers do you know?” Erik asked, turning his gaze towards Hank, who shrunk back.  
“We’ll find one,” Raven nodded.  
Erik looked at her, but, as with Emma, his frown didn’t work.  
“Yeah, it shouldn’t be that hard,” Alex added, “Who wouldn’t want to be part of the Hellfire Club?”  
Alex had a point. The Hellfire Dancers were very popular among the ballet circles. They were a small group, which excluded them from doing a lot of the popular works, though they often found ways to alter the dances to suit their smaller stature, and sometimes worked together with other groups for certain routines. Despite that, they had _something –_ a mix of brilliant dancers, great chemistry, innovative dances and connections with a fashion company – that made people continue to turn up to their shows.  
In fact, there had been dozens of incidents of bigger groups trying to poach at least one of their members. On one memorable occasion, a group had offered to absorb the entire group into their own.  
But the Hellfire Dancers refused to split up, and they absolutely rebuffed the idea of destroying the Hellfire Dancers.  
And this concert was going to be big. They’d gotten four weekends at the Westchester Stage.  
Needless to say, they had all been excited about it.  
And now their lead dancer was dropping out.  
“Yes, I’m sure we can put an ad in the newspaper,” Erik replied, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right next to those people looking for new couches.”  
Azazel pulled at his sleeves. “We do have contacts,” he reminded Erik. “We can put out the word.”  
Janos nodded. “I heard that Stryker’s group was making cutbacks. We could ask them.”  
“See?” Raven asked cheerfully. “It won’t be that bad.”  
Angel scoffed. “As if Erik could get along with a new dancers.”  
There was a pause as the group considered that.  
Erik scowled at them. “I’m not that unlikable.”  
Nate blinked at him, something like amusement glinting in his eyes. “Of course not.” He looked at Raven. “Maybe you should let them know that we’re after a dancer that’s not easily offended. Or bullied,” he added as an afterthought.  
Erik glared at him, but Raven nodded thoughtfully. “One that doesn’t scare easily.”  
“Or burst into tears,” Alex added.  
“But guys,” Sean cut in. “What if they send us another Erik?”  
A shudder went round the group.  
Erik folded his arms and said nothing.  
“So what do we say?” Armando asked. “No overly-critical dancers?”  
“Mean is the word you’re looking for,” Angel pointed out.  
“Possibly evil,” Raven continued.  
“Cheshire grin,” Nate murmured.  
“Are you done?” Erik snapped.  
They swapped looks. “For now,” Raven said.  
“We’ll need to figure out height and weight requirements,” Emma said. “Go over what skills they’ll need.”  
They quickly all fell into discussion about exactly what this ‘new dancer’ would need.  
  
XXX  
  
At roughly the same time, Charles Xavier, formerly of the Oxford Dancers, was losing his job.  
There he was, sitting across from Stryker, being told that he wouldn’t be needed this year.  
Project X was a famous ballet group, often running at least five concerts a year. Charles had only worked for them for a year, having switched from the Oxford Dancers when he’d moved back to America.  
Charles sat there dumbly. He could see that Stryker was waiting for some reaction, maybe tears or an angry outburst. He wondered then why the head of the company was firing them personally.  
Charles just sat through the meeting, nodding, while his mind churned. He had only just gotten comfortable with his position.  
Not that he was happy with that. It was hard going from being a lead dancers in England back to what could really only be seen as back-up dancing. Especially when there was a voice in his head reminding him that he was better than the ones they’d chosen for the lead. Every time one of the leads made a mistake, Charles selfishly thought ‘ _I could do that’._  
Stryker had finished talking and Charles realised he was waiting for a response. Charles nodded again and began to rise. Stryker was still looking at him as if he was still expecting some uncontrolled reaction. Charles put on his coat, wondering what he should say. He didn’t know Stryker well, he only saw him at the big events, and even then only from a distance.  
So Charles didn’t say anything, just walked out. As he made his way down the street, he wondered if he was in shock. He _had_ just lost his job after all. He should be crying or something right?  
Absentmindedly he pulled out his phone and called Moira. “Dinner tonight?” he asked after she picked up.  
“Sure,” she replied without a second’s hesitation. “Stark’s?”  
  
XXX

“Done!” Raven declared, scribbling down the last item on their ‘list’.  
Erik looked it over. “Does ‘good-looking’ have to be written down three times?”  
“Yes,” Raven, Sean, Alex and Nate all said simultaneously.  
Erik gave them equally disbelieving looks.  
“Come on Erik, we’re an attractive bunch,” Sean said.  
Erik looked over them all and raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering over Sean, Azazel and Janos, making Emma and Nate chuckle.  
“It won’t be a deciding factor!” Raven told him. “It’s just a good thing to keep in mind.”  
“Three times,” Erik reminded her.  
Raven shook her head. “Is there anything else we need to add?”  
“We got personality down,” Alex said.  
“To a T.” Erik commented.  
“And the physical aspects,” Emma continued.  
“And their required skills,” Armando said.  
“And how pretty they are,” Raven added with a flutter of her eyelashes.  
Erik shook his head in disappointment.  
“I’ll start calling people,” Azazel said, taking the list in his hand.  
Erik looked away, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.  
  
XXX  
  
Moira walked up to his table and sat down. “Well?” she asked. She pulled at her hair.  
“I got fired.” Charles told her.  
She blinked at him, then frowned. “Good.”  
Charles blinked in surprise. “I’m not quite sure,” he said, his British accent temporarily overriding his American one, “but I believe when a friend loses his job, the correct response isn’t ‘ _good’._ ”  
Moira shot him a smile. “You didn’t like it there.” She told him.  
“Didn’t I?”  
Moira shook her head. “They didn’t deserve you anyway. They kept passing you over in favour of the popular dancers.”  
Charles already knew that. “Still, I’ll have to find a new job.”  
It was then Moira shot him a smile. “Well, then this offer will go over a lot smoother,”  
“Offer?”  
She pulled out a file from her bag. “Came in just after you called,” she told him, handing him the file.  
He frowned and opened it.  
“Well?” she asked.  
“The Hellfire Dancers?” He asked in surprise. Everyone had heard about the Hellfire Dancers.  
Moira nodded. “Just came in today,” she repeated. “I thought of you immediately.”  
Charles looked it over. He definitely fit the requirements that they’d asked for.  
“They asked for someone attractive as well,” Moira added, “Though I think he was joking.”  
“He?”  
“Azazel. He handles the business side of…They’ve got a weird system,” she confessed. “They don’t really do things…normally.” She shook her head. “I have no idea how they’ve lasted this long. All the dancers are also influential in their management. They’re all co-presidents or whatever.”  
Charles frowned again. “So would I…?”  
She shrugged. “I have no idea.”  
Charles looked at the file again. “It’s worth a try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, the fact that people don't refer to Erik's grin as a 'Cheshire Cat Grin' upsets me very much. It's a very good impression. 
> 
> I have a tumblr for prompts and stuff - http://crimesofadeadpool.tumblr.com/


	2. Ain't Nothing Like It Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly sorry this took so long.  
> See, it started when I decided to go through other ballet!au's. Turns out they're all incredibly angsty. Like John Watson being anorexic and all this other dark stuff and all of them seem to have some basis in the Black Swan movie.  
> (I did try to watch the Black Swan movie. I did get about twenty minutes in, but it never really absorbed me and it just didn't seem to have any relevance to what I wanted to do.)  
> Because I want this to be fluffy. So fluffy. So if you're after that sort of dark story, sorry.
> 
> Right, so I lost motivation for a while. Months actually. And then I decided to get over it and write... only to find out my iPad, with my story notes, had disappeared.  
> And I found it last night. So yes. Here we go. Finally. The long (long) awaited continuation.

Erik tapped his fingers impatiently against his thigh.  
“He didn’t kick high enough, next.”  
Raven rolled her eyes. They were going through dvds of the applicants in action.  
“I’ll put it in the maybe pile,” she said.  
Azazel made a note.  
Erik’s lip thinned.  
Alex skipped to the next scene. A few seconds passed.  
“Next!” the group chimed as one.  
Alex skipped again.  
Ten pairs of eyes glued to the screen.  
Five minutes in, Angel began with, “Well, he’s cute.”  
Sean nodded.  
“He’s got good rhythm,” Armando offered.  
“And his kicks are high enough,” Alex teased.  
“Erik?” Raven asked. “You’re the one who’ll have to dance with him.”  
Erik’s eyes narrowed. There was no particular bad faults…  
“He’s slow to turn. Weak landing on the right foot. And he’s on the small side, acceptable, but it’ll still cause problems.”  
Emma gave him a smile. “Three criticisms. You must like him.”  
Erik looked away. “Best of a bad situation. So far.”  
The girls exchanged looks. “We’ll put it in the ‘succeeds to the next round’ pile.”  
Erik waved a hand. “Next.”  
  
XXX  
  
Charles looked up at the building. He blinked twice. Well.  
It wasn’t the most attractive warehouse.  
 _Warehouse._ What even was that? He sighed to himself. _The Hellfire Dancers._  
He really hoped they weren’t into hellfire decorating as well.  
If he saw any real fires in the Hellfire warehouse he was getting the _hell_ out of there, unemployed or not.  
He stepped up to the door, hesitating slightly. Should he knock or…?  
He reached out to knock but as his hand hit the door it swung open. Another spark of anxiety hit him. What if this wasn’t the right place? It had been written down sure. That was definitely the address he’d been given but…  
He steeled himself, and, taking the open door as an invitation, walked in.  
The inside was…surprisingly nice. Chic, even. The door led to a small sectioned off room.  
On the far wall, which was only a few meters from where Charles was standing, a piece of paper loudly declaring ‘GO THROUGH’ was sticky taped next to another door. It was signed ‘Hellfire Dancers’.  
Charles hesitated. Well, at least there was no doubt he was in the right place.  
He stepped through.  
  
XXX

 

“ _Erik,”_ Emma finally snapped. “I swear to whatever god you believe in that I will snap your neck if you don’t say something at least somewhat positive about the next audition.”  
Erik calmly blinked and looked away. “Sloppy,” he repeated. “Bad form.”  
Emma gave an exasperated sigh. “If the new replacement wasn’t going to be your new partner-”  
“Yes, yes, you’d kick me out of this room and not let me back in, you’ve all made that perfectly clear. But since he _is_ going to be my new dancer, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop complaining.”  
Emma sighed, folding her arms.  
“I wish we could just clone him,” Sean mumbled. “But I bet he’d find fault even with a clone.”  
“Of course I would. Who would lead?”  
The group let out a sigh.  
“Excuse me?” said a voice from the door.  
  
XXX  
  
The group turned towards him.  
Charles flushed. “I’m-”  
“The cute one,” one of the blonde girls purred. “We remember.”  
Charles glanced around the room. This room took up the rest of the space of the warehouse. The far side of the room housed a built-in stage. Besides from that, the room was practically unfurnished, a table in one corner, and in front of it, in no particular order, were ten chairs, most of them seating the members of the Hellfire Dancers, the others standing near them. Ten faces peered at him. Analysing him. Critiquing him. They were all wearing typical practise outfits, unadorned leotards and tights. Except each person was wearing a different colour. The blonde girl was wearing brown, the pasty boy with glasses was wearing yellow, the Spanish one in blue. It wasn’t exactly an attractive array of costumes. In fact, the only one who Charles could honestly say didn’t look…odd… was the tall, handsome man clad in black. But then again, black was the best colour to wear. That’s why Charles was wearing black too. It was traditional… Had he missed a memo? Was he supposed to turn up in a certain colour? He hoped not.  
“Right?” he said uncertainly.  
“Oh, so you think you’re cute,” piped one of the males.  
“No, I-”  
“With an ego like that maybe you’d suit the part after all,” said another.  
“Wouldn’t it make more sense if he had no ego?” The one in black asked, seemingly annoyed.  
“I wasn’t-”  
The other blonde, dressed in white, sighed. “He’s already scared. This is a perfect start.”  
There was something about her that screamed ‘royal’. Or perhaps ‘elitist’.  
Charles frowned. He thought about protesting, but decided against it. He sensed it wouldn’t work.  
The one in yellow adjusted his glasses. “You know what you’re supposed to be doing?”  
Charles nodded. “Should I…?” he gestured to the stage.  
The one in yellow opened his mouth, but the one in black interrupted.  
“No. First you need to answer some questions.”  
The rest of the group all made annoyed noises.  
“Questions?” Charles asked.  
“No point wasting our time watching you dance if you can’t meet our standards.”  
“I thought-”  
“Don’t.” The man stepped toward the table, flipping through papers. “Do you smoke?”  
Charles blinked twice. “I don’t see-”  
“If you smoke,” the man said, suddenly passionate, “You could be endangering the other dancers. We have a strict no-smoking policy.”  
“Uh…no, I don’t smoke.”  
“Drink?”  
“Huh?”  
“Alcohol,” the man said impatiently.  
“Not often.”  
“We can’t have you turning up hung-over. Or worse, drunk. Family life?”  
“ _What?”_  
“We’d prefer not to have members with complicated family issues. I hear having sick relatives can be a bit distracting.”  
“Oh. No they’re um, dead.”  
The man’s eyes met his. “Sorry,” he said briefly, before returning to the paper. “Relationship status?”  
Charles looked around the room, not a hundred percent sure this was legal. “Single.”  
“Hmm.” The man stared at his papers.  
“Give it up Erik,” said the other woman, the one dressed in pink with slightly darker skin. “He passed your tests.”  
The one named Erik scowled. “Fine.” He pointed to the ground. “Bag there, stage there. Questions?”  
Charles shook his head and wondered if it was too late to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right so yes. Cut off just before the dance scene which will be fun to write. Or horrible. Hahaha~


	3. Wait Till I Draw You Near

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I chickened out and didn't put in any _actual_ dance moves. All emotional stuff from me.   
>  Also, ballerino means male ballet dancer. For some reason ballerina is in Word's dictionary, but ballerino isn't....

Charles stood on the stage, all eyes on him.   
The familiar nervousness, the feelings of inadequacy which all dancers inevitably face when under scrutiny welled up inside him. But. He was a good dancer. A brilliant dancer. And he wouldn't be here if they didn't see something in him, that untapped potential Moira had talked about earlier.   
One of the Hellfire Dancers stepped to the side of the room, tapping some buttons on their music player. The music filtered in, Fur Elise, and Charles relaxed. One deep breath before falling into position.  
Ballet wasn't something you could lose yourself in. Every movement had to be perfect, every breath coordinated, every arm raised, every knee bent, to a perfect ideal. Leaps calculated, movements restricted, balance always on the forefront.   
Losing yourself was a lie.   
Charles' body moved, following the pattern of a dance he'd preformed once years ago, the same one that had been submitted with his resume. Keeping himself light, His body changing with the tempo, slow, fast, each step as precise as the last, till he finally found himself back in centre stage as the music faded away.  
He breathed heavily, his mind coming out of the dancing mindset. The Hellfire Dancers examined him emotionally. Then they all turned to Erik.   
Erik glanced at them with a small frown. "Why are you looking at me?"   
"Well go on," the girl in brown said. "Let him have it."  
Erik pursued his lips.  
"Oh my god," the third girl, dressed in pink, gasped. "He doesn't have anything."  
"Hardly," Erik replied, but his frown deepened.   
"Does....does that mean he's in?" one of the guys asked.   
"I don't know," the girl in white mused. "This has never happened before."   
The guy in yellow adjusted his glasses and looked at his notes, "We still have fifteen more auditions to go through."   
"Hank, Erik is speechless." one of the guys said. "Surely that's an A plus plus."   
Erik seemed to regain his senses. "To choose someone without seeing all the possibilities would be ridiculous and sloppy."  
The woman in brown sighed.  
"He’s right," hank said. "We’re supposed to be respectable. Professional and all."  
The girl in pink made a pained noise. "But Erik likes him."   
"I never said that." Erik said.   
"He can tolerate his dancing style," the one in white corrected.   
Charles scratched at his head. "Should I go?"   
Erik shot him a dark look. "Yes."   
"We'll be in touch," one of the males said.   
"Okay," Charles replied uncertainly, and, grabbing his stuff, fled the room.

  
XXX  
  
Raven stretched. “I never want to see another ballet performance again. Ever.”   
“Hear hear,” Sean replied tiredly, sliding against the wall to the ground.   
“That would make being ballerinas and ballerinos very difficult,” Erik said dryly.  
Alex rubbed at his head. “If this becomes a regular thing, I might just quit.”   
“Hear hear,” the rest of the group echoed.   
Erik made an annoyed noise.   
“Remember that one with the props?” Angel giggled.   
“No, no, the mime, that was the best one.” Alex chimed.   
“What about the one who kept hitting on Raven?” Sean reminded them, suddenly regaining his composure.  
Azazel shot him a look as Raven adjusted her hair.   
Emma rubbed her temples. “This whole thing was a massive mistake. We’ll just have to rewrite Erik’s part.”  
“There was that one,” Hank said. “You know…” he pushed some papers around on the table in front of him. “Charles Xavier.”  
Raven perked up. “The one Erik liked.”  
“I did not _like_ him.” Erik grumbled. “He still turns too slow.”   
“Been sitting on that for long?” Emma purred.   
Erik had, actually. Charles had put on a near perfect performance. But Erik had a reputation to maintain, so he’d convinced himself that there had been flaws in Charles’ performance and harped on those in his mind, that it had been tiredness and repetitiveness that had stalled him earlier.   
Erik looked away. “He’ll have to do. We’re _not_ rewriting.”   
“I’ll contact him then.” Azazel said. He looked around the worn-out group. “For next week,” he added. “To clear our minds.”  
Raven stepped over and kissed his cheek. “That sounds great baby.” She stepped away. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to bed.”  
There was another murmur of approval through the group and they began to pull themselves up, dusting themselves off. They filtered out of the room slowly, till only Erik and Emma were left.   
Erik frowned at her questioningly.   
Emma looked down. “This is going to be difficult to adjust to.”   
“The group will survive.”  
“I wasn’t talking about the group.” She glared at him. “If we choose to go with this Xavier, we’ll have to keep him.”  
“I’m aware-”  
“Which means you can’t scare him off two days before the show. If we go with him, we can’t change our mind later.”  
Erik sighed. “What is it you want Emma?”  
“Promise me you’ll try not to scare him off.”  
Erik hesitated and Emma’s glare darkened.   
“I promise.”  
  
XXX  
  
“Sorry I’m late,” Charles said, sliding in to the chair opposite Moira.   
Moira put down her menu. “So?”  
“So?”  
“How was the interview? Recital?” She waved her hand. “Whatever?”  
Charles tried to sum it up with a look.   
“That bad?” Moira asked, placing a hand on his arm.   
Charles screwed up his face. “I mean, I think I did well. They’re just….”  
“Weird?”   
“So weird.”  
Moira gave him a concerned look. “Too weird?”   
“It’d be good for my resume.” He shrugged. “And I’m _unemployed._ ” He scowled. “ _If_ I even get the spot.”  
“They’d be stupid not to cast you.”   
“I don’t know if they follow normal logic Moira.”   
Moira shrugged. “Either way,” she indicated to the waiter. “We should celebrate.”   
Charles grinned.   
  
XXX  
  
The next day he got a phone call from the Hellfire Dancers.   
He was in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still really short chapters, sorry, they'll get longer later on, I swear. 
> 
> Fur Elise is one of my faves. You can listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mVW8tgGY_w). It was a bit of a struggle between doing that or 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy', but... yeah. I'll probably do that later~


End file.
